Ryker

Chapter Twenty

My head is pounding as I slowly roll it onto my shoulder. I wince as a sharp pain rolls down my spine. I can tell, without opening my eyes, that my arms are hanging above my head, and a cold metal is clasped around my wrists. My feet don’t touch the floor, and I sway slightly with every movement.

As I open my eyes, the feeling of being spun takes over, and bile rushes up my throat. I swallow it back down and take heavy breaths as I take in the familiar surroundings. In front of me is nothing but a closed door. To my left is a tray filled with knives and different handmade tools. One stands out the most; a sharp tool that has what looks like arrowheads glued to a flathead screwdriver. If you were to stand it up on its base, it would look like a tree. I shift my gaze to the right and see a chair and a few crates that were here the past two times I broke in.

I try to take a deep breath, but my lungs protest, and I wince. I can feel someone watching me from behind. I don’t bother looking. Whoever it is wants to see me sweat, but I won’t give them the satisfaction.

They might think teaming up on me to take me out was a smart thing to do, but it wasn’t. When I get my hands on them, I will make all of their deaths slow and painful.

I can’t help but feel betrayed by Nolan. I know I gave him the go-ahead to do what he needed to do to remain alive, but a slight pang of hurt remains, knowing someone I consider a brother turned me over so easily .

Whoever is behind me shuffles, and I can feel them growing closer. A rough hand runs down my spine, and goosebumps rise on my skin at the contact.

“Good morning, Angel.” Ryker’s voice is cold and laced with a menacing sound I’ve never heard from him.

Instead of responding, I tilt my head to look at him, having to suppress a wince. A slow, devilish smirk plays across his lips. I can’t help the shutter that ripples through my body.

The door opens, grabbing my attention. Hawkins is the first to limp in. The glare he shoots me makes me smile at him in return. Lincoln is the next to follow, and he doesn’t seem to be in any pain. I’ll have to slice a little deeper next time, then. Both he and Ryker are sporting matching nose bandages, and I smirk. Nolan strides in, and other than the bandage on his hand from where I bit him, he looks completely healthy.

Surprisingly, two more people enter. The first is the man I stabbed when I rescued Jessica, and the last is the man who was sitting with me on the park bench. He pauses and swallows as he takes me in.

I look down and notice I’m in nothing but my black laced bra and matching thong, but that’s not what he’s looking at. Instead, his focus is on my torso. Beneath all the new bruises is where you can find Manzo’s more sinister side.

His main way of torture was knives and burns. He loved to make me scream, to make me beg him to stop. He wanted to draw out every scream inside of me. The scars on my back are far worse. They are about the size of a quarter, while the ones they can see are about the size of a nickel.

He would always use his favorite lighter. It was a gift from his father, and the sound of the lid opening and closing still haunts my nightmares .

When I would fight back, he would tie me face down and hold the flame to my skin until I passed out from pain. When I eventually learned that, I was finally able to mask my pain, which just made him even angrier. He just started cutting deeper and kept the flame on my skin longer. I tried to keep count of how many scars he created, but I lost count years ago.

The cut on my arm from Leo, the stab wound from Manzo, and the broken ribs haven’t had time to fully heal. Any contact with those spots and I’m sure I would black out from pain.

I turn my attention back to Ryker, who is now in the corner, mumbling something to Lincoln. Hawkins joins the conversation, and I roll my eyes.

“Why don’t you boys share with the class?” All the heads in the room turn to me, and I have to stop myself from shifting against the chains. I can’t let them know they make me uncomfortable.

Ryker walks over to me and moves a strand of hair out of my face. “We have a few questions for you.”

I spit, hitting him in the eye. I sway, a wicked smirk plastered on my face. He chuckles, low and menacing, as he wipes off his face. He moans, low and gravely as he sucks his finger in his mouth, cleaning off the last of my spit on his finger.

“All right, play time’s over. You can either tell us what we want to know, or Marcus here can test a few of his new toys. They’re not nearly as fun as the toys I would use on you, Angel.” Ryker grips the man’s shoulder.

The look in Marcus’s eyes sends a chill down my spine. I know he would enjoy torturing me. I did stab him after all. It was for a good reason, though. I’m sure I’m the only one in this room that thinks that .

I just smile at him and tilt my head. “The last time I saw you, I kicked your ass.” He clenches his jaw, and his hands ball into fists at his side. “Are you mad because I stopped you from taking advantage of that poor girl? I’m not sure I even needed to step in.” I look down at his crotch. “I’m not sure you would be able to get it up.”

He takes a step forward, and Ryker’s hand grips his shoulder to hold him back. Hawkins takes over, stepping in front of Marcus, and narrows his eyes on me. “Ohh, looks like the big guns have to step in. Is he too much of a pussy to handle me himself?”

Hawkins pulls one of the smaller knives off the tray, ignoring my taunt. He tosses it back and forth as he approaches me. “Do you know what this is? This beauty is one of my favorites.” He asks as he holds it up in the light. When I don’t answer, a wicked smile spreads across his face. “It’s an oyster-shucking knife.”

“If you wanted to eat me, all you had to do was ask.”

“Why did you kill my father, Bianca?” He glances up from flipping the steel.

I blink, furrowing my brows. I glance at the other men, and they are all waiting for an answer. “ That’s what you want to know?” I scoff with a laugh.

He brings the knife up to my neck, leans in, and growls, “All you need to do is answer the fucking question, and we don’t have to do this. Nobody wants this to happen, so work with us.”

He’s telling the truth. I know that this will be more painful for him than it will be for me. This isn’t anything that I haven’t been through a million times before. I know he’s had his fair share of bloodshed, but I know from experience that it never gets easier watching it happen .

“All you need to know is your father was a piece of shit. It doesn’t matter why.”

“But it does.” He retorts. “He was a mob boss, a King …”

A laugh slips from my lips, “A King? Careful, your ego is showing. Just because you have money doesn’t make you a King.”

He presses the knife into my skin harder, and I furrow my brows when I don’t feel the stinging sensation that normally would have started by now. He lets out a low chuckle and pulls back, running the knife across my carotid artery.

“See, I was taught that the duller the knife, the more painful it is. Sharp knives can pierce skin and muscles like butter, but this…” He digs the tip of the blade into my chest, and I let out a small whimper. “This needs more pressure to cut through, making it pull the skin.”

The burning sensation starts to build, overwhelming my mind, locking me into the present. Pressing the metal of the chains into my palm, I hold my breath, letting the burn transfer to my lungs.

The threads of my skin grip onto the blade, desperate to remain as they were. When Hawkins digs the knife in deeper, the ridges of the blade slowly pluck away at my skin, making me clench my eyes shut. When he pulls back, the blood trickles down my cleavage, leaving a path over the scar Ryker gave me only a few days ago.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Hawkins says, pulling my attention back to him. “Why did you go after my father?”

“Why don’t I send you to hell? You can ask him yourself.” I grit out, and Hawkins lets out a breath before he rounds to my back .

My gaze lands on Lincoln. He stands leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, and his jaw clenched. I lift my chin, and he inhales a sharp breath.

A scorching pain starts on my right hip, and I scream, shutting my eyes and bowing my back. It lasts for only a few seconds, but it feels as if someone is sticking a metal rod through my hips. Before I have time to inhale a breath, the pain intensifies as he pushes the blade in deeper.

As he slowly extracts the blade, I let my body sag against the restraints. From where my arm was dislocated by Manzo a little over a week ago, the socket is still sore. I’m sure if I move too much more, I will dislocate it again. Being strung up like this is pulling at the muscle, causing burning pain to course through the limb.

“You know what’s funny.” I huff out in heavy breaths. “You care so much about a man who didn’t give a shit about you. He only cared about one thing. Money.”

Hawkins scoffs. “You think I care about him?” He raises an eyebrow. “He was a disgrace to the Hawkins name.”

“Then why do you care about the why? What’s done is done. I’m sure there are more pressing things you need to know.” He takes a step forward and cuts down my right side, avoiding the spot where I was stabbed.

I clench my jaw and find a spot on the wall. My body goes numb, and the pain slowly fades away with my mind. All my senses are gone. My vision is nothing but a blur, and my hearing is nothing but static.

I bow my head when Hawkins finally relents. Based on how dark it is outside, I can tell that not much time has passed, even if it feels like hours .

Even though I have closed my eyes, I can still feel his every movement, especially with my body on high alert, in survival mode, heightening my instincts. Hawkins asked the same question about his father over and over again, and every time, I didn’t answer. I counted fifteen new cuts.

I tilt my head slightly and slowly open my eyes to find Ryker staring back at me as Hawkins whispers in his ear. Ryker nods and looks between me and Marcus. I tilt my head to the other side, and Marcus smiles from ear to ear. I feel bile rush up my throat at the thought of that man touching me.

Ryker whispers something into Hawkins’s ear, and he walks over to Lincoln. Whatever Hawkins says makes Lincoln grow stiff. He narrows his eyes on Marcus, and he shakes his head.

“No, absolutely not.” He hisses and scowls at Ryker, who shrugs.

Lincoln clenches his jaw and lets out a breath.

Hawkins takes that as confirmation and walks over to Marcus, handing him the knife. I feel all eyes on me, and I grow stiff. This man is a trained killer. His whole job is to get information out of people. I know I won’t break. I know I can keep my mouth shut. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and focus my attention back on Lincoln.

As Marcus approaches, my heart betrays me. Panic starts to enter me as flashbacks flood my mind of every time Manzo had me just like this—the pain, the torment. My breathing starts to pick up, but when Ryker breaks eye contact with me to examine my body, my breathing stops. I almost miss the slight tension that enters his relaxed demeanor and the tightening of his jaw. He’s careful not to give anything else away.

Marcus first starts with my back. Cutting and slashing deeper than Hawkins did. He manages to get a few cusses and winces out of me, but other than that, I don’t react. The numbness returns, and I can’t feel the blade pulling at my skin anymore. Every so often, I can hear the men shout questions at me, but my brain doesn’t register anything. I don’t think I could answer them, even if I wanted to. My brain has checked out, and my body is not far behind.

I start chuckling, and Marcus stops cutting. The men grow silent, and my laughter grows louder. Marcus comes to face me and puts the knife to my neck. I try to hold back the laugh, but I can’t help it.

Have you ever been told not to laugh, but it makes you want to even more? It’s kind of like that. My body has a mind of its own at the moment. Even as he presses deeper, the laugh still forms in my throat. His brows furrow, and he looks to Ryker, who has his own mask up.

I shake my head. “You…” I laugh again. "He's your best?” I look at Lincoln who is standing straighter, when I look at Ryker, a look of amusement is plastered on his face. “Come on.” I drawl and shake the chains, making my body hit Marcus. “Come on.” I tease again. “Kill me. Do it. Please. I’m begging you. This is too much.” I keep my voice as monotone as I can, mocking him.

Marcus rears his hand back and hits me in my nose. I feel blood drip onto my lip, and I grin. “Much better.” I lick the blood off my lip, and I can feel the copper taste coating my teeth.

He stalks forward, wrapping his massive hand around my throat, while the other is poking the knife into my side. Spots begin to blur my vision, but I don’t back down. Maybe, just maybe, he will kill me, and I can join my sisters and Jeremy. I can spend eternity making sure I haunt these sons of bitches.

To my dismay, Marcus’s hand is ripped from my throat, and I sputter a cough. I slowly look up to see what’s happened, and the sight of Ryker pinning Marcus against the wall shocks me. All thoughts of my burning back and the tightness still wrapped around my throat disappear as I watch Ryker pummel Marcus into the brick.

Marcus now matches me, with a black eye and broken nose. If I had it my way, that fucker wouldn’t still be walking. I’d love nothing more than to break his spine so he has to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. He might work for Ryker, but there is something deep within him that needs to be tamed, otherwise Ryker will have a big problem on his hands.

Ryker grabs Marcus by the arm and drags him out of the room, with Hawkins, Nolan, and Ace following right behind him. Leaving Lincoln and me alone.

“You should keep your mouth shut.” He warns.

I lift my chin. “Isn’t the whole point of this to get me to talk?” I ask, and he narrows his eyes.

“You know what I meant.” He takes a step forward and looks at the wound, raking his hand over it.

“What happened to you?” I whisper, and he stares at me. We stand like that for a couple of seconds… well, he does; I just hang there like a puppet.

“I grew up… and I could ask the same about you.” he plucks a clean rag off the table, holding all the tools, and takes a step towards me. He grips my chin and lightly strokes the rag over one of my cuts. I close my eyes so they can’t betray me and show the pain his gentle touch causes.

“I have been this way my entire life. I’ve always been a fighter.” I say in a whisper, making sure to keep my voice as steady as possible .

He takes a deep breath and lets go of my chin. I open my eyes to meet his gaze. “I went to your funeral, you know. We all did. We all thought you were dead.”

Everyone knew I was going to have to marry a mob boss. Marrying Manzo wouldn’t have been something out of the ordinary. So, why would they want everyone to think I was dead?

“If I had known Manzo and your father were keeping you hidden, we would have found you.” He continues.

“That’s bullshit. Ryker’s father knew, just like Leo did. Ryker and Hawkins are Bosses, and you are a Capo. They wouldn’t keep something as big as me being alive a secret from the three of you. And let’s say on some off chance you didn’t know I was spending the better part of ten years being tortured by Manzo; you know as well as I do that Ryker’s father wouldn’t have risked saving me from that hell just because you asked.”

He whips around and takes three big strides towards me. “You’re telling me Ryker’s father knew you were alive this entire time?” He lifts his chin and narrows his eyes on me.

“Yes, he knew. He…” I trail off and look over his shoulder to see Ryker standing in the doorway now, leaning against it with his arms crossed. I didn’t even hear the door open. “Your father knows more than he’s letting on. You want answers, Ryker? Why don’t you ask him yourself.” I turn my attention back to Lincoln, who has his jaw flexed and his hands in tight fists.

“I’m going to kill him,” Ryker mumbles from the doorway, snapping Lincoln out of his trance.

The Lincoln I knew would never stand by and watch a woman be tortured. The man before me is a stranger who would kill me in a heartbeat if it meant gaining all the information I have .

“If I knew you were alive, I wouldn’t have let that happen to you.” “And yet…” I wave my hand around as best I can, “Here I am,

your prisoner .”

Without saying another word, he turns around and leaves, with Ryker following after him. I let out a heavy sigh and look down at the scarlet concrete floor. I smile. I might lose the war, but I just won the battle.

My arms are weak, I’m dehydrated, and starving. Marcus came in yesterday to change the bandages, but other than that, they have been letting me rot in here. I have been left here with my thoughts, and I think that is the most dangerous thing of all. I don’t know Ryker’s game.

The thing about Manzo’s torture is that I was able to survive because, over time, I learned what he wanted from me. He wanted me to fight back to a certain point, he wanted me to scream and cry. When I knew that’s what he got off on, I was able to hide that part of myself from him. He never saw me cry, and until I saw Jeremy lying there in his own blood, I thought I had forgotten how to. But with Ryker, I don’t know what he wants. I was able to deduce that he hated when I didn’t react to Marcus and Hawkins, so when…if I ever see him again, I know to keep the blank stare I know all too well.

Two more days pass. I shifted my weight the wrong way and dislocated my shoulder. Lincoln came in once and offered me food, but I turned it down. Marcus came in later that day, forcing an entire water bottle down my throat. I told him I needed stitches, but I don’t think he cared. I don’t think he likes me very much. If he had it his way, I’m sure he would’ve killed me by now. I have to say, the feeling is mutual.

The next day, Marcus came in and unchained me, dropping me in the blood that still stained the floor. I could barely walk from being strung up for so long that I had to grip the wall to keep myself steady. Marcus kept me chained as he led me outside and walked me like a dog on a leash. Not like I had any strength in my body to fight him to try and get away. My legs were numb, and my shoulder had turned to Jell-O. There were lots of men outside, all watching me as I relieved myself in the bushes. It was humiliating.

When we got back in the room, I was able to convince Marcus to pop my shoulder back into its socket. He then threw the chain over the beam on the ceiling and pulled me back up.

On day five, Marcus came in with a medical staple gun. He looked over my torso and gave himself a small nod before working his way to my back. Without a warning, he put two staples in my back, drawing out a scream of protest.

“Fucker!” I hissed and he chuckled, stapling another part of my lower back. “You’re supposed to clean it first.”

“It’s been cleaned.” He says, just as he places two more.

I let out another string of curses which didn't do anything but make him laugh. I hated that he enjoyed it so much.

I haven’t gotten to see what it looks like, but I’m sure I look like Frankenstein.

It’s the next day, and Lincoln has come in twice trying to get me to eat something. I’m not sure why I refused because I know they wouldn’t poison me. Lincoln always ate a bite of whatever he was offering me that day. They have at least ten other ways to kill me, so poison is the last thing I need to worry about. I blame it on my stubbornness.

Marcus comes in with a wicked smile on his face. I open my mouth to give him one of the snarky comments I usually give, but I shut my mouth when Ryker enters. Instead of giving it to Marcus, I direct it towards Ryker .

“Couldn’t stay away I see.” I smile. “I guess I’m just too irresistible, huh…”

He doesn’t say anything as he grabs the chair from the corner of the room and sits down in front of me. I’m still in my bra and underwear, and I know I stink. Hell, I’ve been chained up for a week and walked once. He shouldn’t expect me to smell like daisies.

“Are you ready to talk?” He asks as he leans back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

I smile. “Hmmm…” I shift in the chains, trying to get more comfortable. “Why don’t you ask a question? I guess we’ll see just how willing I am.”

“Why did you kill Leo Hawkins?”

“Don’t you think Hawkins should be the one to ask that?” “Don’t worry, he’s watching.” He points to the camera in the

right corner. “They all are.”

“And who are they?” I grin and gasp. “Do I have fans?” I ask mockingly.

He eyes me for a moment before he stands and leaves.

Today marks day seven. Ryker comes back and sits back on the chair. I look up at the camera and wiggle my fingers, the only version of a wave I can offer in my current predicament. When I turn back to Ryker, he’s glowering.

“Such a pretty face. Maybe you should smile more.” I smirk, and he stands, leaving once again. I laugh to myself. I’m getting under his skin, and I’m enjoying every second of it.

Marcus and Ryker enter the room after the sun has set. Based on Marcus’s gleeful expression, I’m able to come to the conclusion that they are here to kill me. That thought vanishes when Marcus drops me, and I fall to the floor. I land on my ass and wince.

“Can you walk?” Ryker asks as he holds out a hand.

“What? You couldn’t take me for a walk by yourself?” I ask Marcus, who doesn’t say anything. “Do you not trust me? I thought we were becoming besties.” I whine in a mocking tone.

“Bianca,” Ryker warns, and I shoot him a look.

“Okay, okay.” I grip the seat he used during his visits, and try to push myself up.

My legs start to shake, and I’m about to fall back down when Ryker takes a step towards me, and I fall forward into his chest. He wraps an arm around me and flattens his palm on my back, making me press into him even more. I look up and see just how much of a height difference there is. He has to be at least six-five because he’s almost a foot taller than me.

I try to read his eyes, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking as he holds my gaze. He’s my captor . I should be terrified of him. Those black soulless eyes would cause any normal person to cower, but I don’t. Instead, I feel heat grow in my stomach.

I know. I’m fucked up, and I know it’s wrong. He’s my torturer, the man who will eventually be the death of me. Something must be wrong with me because I get a small thrill out of it.

I blink a few times and clear my throat. He moves his hand from my back to my arm. I go to push off of him, yet my hand lingers on his chest for the briefest of moments. I feel his toned, hard pecs as I slide my hand down.

I stop myself by putting distance between us, nearly toppling over in the process. I’m able to stand, but walking is another story .

He’s patient. I sway with every step, bumping into him. I stumble and almost fall three times before we make it outside.

Once we clear the door, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, tilting my head towards the sky. I open my eyes and look at the few stars still visible with the city lights; a rare occasion.

“Move,” Marcus says as he tugs on the chains still connected around my wrists. I look over my shoulder and give him a death glare. I know he sees the look of a promise. The look that says one day, I’ll get my revenge .

When I look up at Ryker, he’s staring at me with no expression, but his eyes never leave me as we finish the walk to the car. He opens the door, and I slide in. Ryker follows closely behind. I’m shocked to see Conner in the driver’s seat. I haven’t seen him since I drugged and held him at gunpoint. It takes a few seconds before Marcus rounds the car and gets in on the passenger side.

“It’s good to see you,” I say in a dry tone. Conner shoots me a glare before starting the car. Due to our history, I know he’s not a big fan of mine.

As we pull out of the dock, I scoot to the passenger-side window. I can see Ryker stiffen and Connor locks the doors. A chuckle escapes me as I peer out of the window and watch the buildings fly by. I can’t help but smile.

About fifteen minutes later, Ryker clears his throat and picks up a blindfold off of the floor. “Put this on.” I raise an eyebrow and look down to where my hands are still bound. He lets out an exasperated sigh and slips the blindfold over my eyes. I lose all sense of direction as we turn down multiple streets, and by the time we come to a stop, I’ve gotten completely turned around.

“Killing me at the warehouse was too much of an effort? You had to bring me to a mysterious, unknown location? ”

I hear Ryker chuckle, and I can’t help but smile. I’m glad he can’t see it. His laugh is contagious because I know it’s real. It isn’t sinister or evil, and it makes me even more confused about what the hell is going on.

The passenger side door opens, and a hand wraps around my arm and yanks me out of the car. I stumble into the man. He’s not nearly as gentle as Ryker had been. I can sense him as he approaches behind me, and whoever grabbed me takes a step back. Ryker helps steady me.

My bare feet slap against the paved driveway and up a flight of stairs before we stop. The wind whips around my partially naked body, causing a chill to run down my spine. Someone bangs on the door, and I hear heels rushing to answer.

Goosebumps rise on my arms. Heels and tiles. Manzo. Ryker got sick of me and my taunts. He’s turning me over. I try to take a step back and almost fall down the stairs. A different pair of hands grip my waist and my chest starts heaving. I rip my body out of his grasp, take a few steps to the left, and bump into a wall. I shut my eyes the feeling of defeat beginning to take over.

“Come on,” Ryker says as he grabs my arm and pulls me inside.

I hear a man gasp and my body goes rigid. Please, please, please, just fucking kill me. I think to myself, and we go down another set of steps.

The air gets colder as we begin our descent. The door shuts behind me with a loud thud, causing me to jump and stumble, rolling my ankle on one of the steps. Ryker curses and carries me down the last flight.

He sets me down on a metal chair, and I shiver as he slowly removes the blindfold. I frantically look around. I’m in a basement, yes. But not Manzo’s. I let out a relieved sigh and my heartbeat begins to slow.

“Where are we?” I ask as I lift my head, meeting Ryker’s gaze. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he sits down on the chair across from me as Marcus ties my ankles to the chair and then both my wrists.

“I figured you got tired of hanging.” Ryker shrugs.

“How nice of you,” I mutter and watch as Marcus heads back up the stairs.

“Why did you kill Leo?”

I huff out a breath and lean back in the chair, slumping, letting the coldness of the chair cool my aching body. “You really don’t know?” I ask.

He just stares at me, and I press my lips into a thin line. I look away from him and take in the room. To my right is a shower with a curtain and a drain in the center. To the left of that, in the corner, is a toilet. I look to my left to see a wall filled with an assortment of weapons, anything you would need to torture someone.

“How long are you planning on keeping me here?” I ask, pulling my eyes away from the wall.

“As long as it takes.”

I nod. “Well, I guess I should get comfortable then.”